Chapter 2 Earthly Hell

In 1985, Ivy at the age of twenty, that dream of a happy home cringed into a broken mirror & her end was near. Her dream faded fast. Her own aged mother decided to put her in an old folk’s home. Lee Ah Mooi Old Folk's Home - a complete run-down, stinking zinc-roofed lodging along Jalan Kayu.

Firstly, Ivy's mother was getting old and thinking ahead - Ivy would outlive her. She wanted to leave this world knowing that Ivy is taken care of in an old folk's home. Knowing also that my family will not take care of Ivy for life, for obvious reasons. Secondly, Ivy's mother could not afford to foot the money payable to Ministry of Social Welfare then as a co-payment for Ivy's monthly maintenance. After all, she was just a Bata shoes production operator.

Ivy was dressed up and all her clothing fully packed leaving home for good, into an old folks’ home. She was unaware of what was going to happen. Together with both my mother and Ivy’s mother, we arrived after a long windy ride deep into the kampong.

I was not prepared for the sight that greeted me. What I saw brought on a nightmare. I wanted to cry from the minute I walked in. My mind could not process the horror I saw. Ivy was allocated a lice-infested bed amongst the lifeless old women around her. The many wooden beds were packed to the eyeballs. The stench was stomach-churning.

She was doomed to a life of no love & attention. It seemed that she began to be aware of the curtain closing on her life. The old folks' home had turned into a death trap for a life so young and innocent. I sat on her bed, she was holding my hand tight, wanting to go home. A reservoir of tears stored in my soul was streaming down my cheeks. I could not compose myself. My face hardened as I looked out the window towards the grey sky. Inside, my emotions were a mighty river. And my dam was beginning to crack.

A grimace of pain & sadness passed over her face. She casted a tender glance at me. Her wary eyes darted around. Her little neck stretched as high as it could to look over the bed. She was perching for a look of my Honda, parked along the sandy path. She grasped my hand pointing to her pair of pink shoes by her bedside. She really wanted home.

The foster brother who had wiped away the tears that had flowed, put the bandages on wounds and cut her nails, she would probably not see for eternity. But beginning today, someone else would if ever. As dusk gave way to night, I bade farewell to her, fully aware that when she would need me the most, when her cry of despair would roar through the heavens, I would sit in silence, unaware, standing ready to wipe away any tears.

I visited her for four continuous nights and I left with a sense of emptiness. I was in strong emotional fortitude and decided to bring her back into the arms of grace. I grieved initially - not for myself, but for Ivy. But I picked myself up almost immediately, determined to do my best to help Ivy. Each night I went home with an emptiness. A little something inside me died. Her life was in limbo and things had gone all soft. A part of me had been cruelly wrenched away. It was as if I had stumbled into a time warp and been transported into another world, where there was no security, no future and no hope for Ivy. There was a lot of soul-searching.

I wanted Ivy home again. The pain of parting was too much for Ivy. But this decision to bring Ivy will not go unchallenged, I will have to wade through endless challenges and I do not regret my choice. Nonetheless I had good reasons to worry on what lies ahead. It was going to be a very difficult cross to carry.


The Day The Earth Stood Still

I fought tooth & nail with my mother in her coming back home. The mention of Ivy would be laced with bitterness. Cracks opened in our relationship. My mother eyeballed me sternly before saying her final ultimatum, in her usual deadpan tone - she wanted Ivy to remain at the old folk’s home. She shouted at me in dialect, ' We have done enough good deeds for Ivy already! Twenty-one long years! I'm getting old now, please don't burden me anymore!'. It apparently caused her hormones to bubble. She must have thought that I was a completely misguided soul.

I just wish my mother would give me the space to do what I want to do in this life for Ivy. Unfortunately, life is not so accommodating.

I felt a knot in my throat. 'Mother, please, Ivy does not take a lot of effort to take care of. I can get a maid to look after her.' I know at best, it was an absurd argument. I know she simply wants to draw an icy cold line and wants me to move on, without Ivy. My mother looked set to pull the trigger. I began to make sense of what was happening and became emotionally refrigerated. The repercussion was going to be significant. And it did.

Anyone would have empathised my mother, how could I refute that? I have seen it each day myself and was very much part of it. Sure she had enough, probably more than anyone could imagine. But in me, the word 'burden' was no more in my vocabulary. Ivy and I have a bonding relationship that transcended beyond language. How could I sear through the spirit of humanity and bring forth the unction. The words jammed in my throat. The atmosphere between us was extremely frosty. In the eyeball-to-eyeball confrontation with her, I could not afford to blink. I was walking on an emotional tightrope. I felt in my bones that I should fight on. But my soul was also clogged with guilt in chaining my mother with this burden again. I felt absolutely imprisoned. My mother was already at the autumn of her life. I was greatly pinched between these two facts. I thought I should not roll into the mud of empathy and to emotionally disconnect myself from Ivy.

Nobody is better prepared to shoulder that responsibility.

I was in limbo, I lived every day with doubt; I did not know where to pitch my emotions. My fourth sister whom was closest to me, but was not always at the same page with me. She had been encouraging me to let Ivy stay in the old folk's home, probably a better & cleaner one. She would have thought that I was merely in a perpetual state of anaesthesia. She seemed resolved to psych me out, asking me to put Ivy aside and move on. I hated the popular self-help notions of 'closure' & 'moving on' trying to find some closure.

But my sister knows that I'm the decisive but cautious type, and never makes a decision without in-depth thoughts and consideration. She cautioned that I should not hazard everything on a single throw of dice. It is going to be a long haul she warned. She wanted to be sure that I was in touch with my own feelings and not inevitably opened a can of worms in my life. But to me there is no right or wrong about it. There are many things which need no such differentiation of right or wrong. I made my point clear to her, that there was no going back. I was very clear about it and I did not know why she was not. I looked set to bite the dust at all cost.

I was firm on something special. I have to stand that extra inch taller unmoved by these barbs. It took her a long time to see the truth of my statement.

I must make my own judgments, which are not subject to anyone else's agreement or approval. I have no one to please but myself. Life is in the process, in the living, not in the outcome, and the process of living is the process of making ourselves.


The Sting

Ivy's own sister, Jane, a bank officer, called me, interrogating me for my actions. I was held hostage by her answerless questions. She made it clear to me that I did not have the jurisdiction to bring Ivy out of the old folk's home. It was none of my business, she reiterated. That was a cruel irony. Someone fighting to reject her own flesh and blood. She must have thought that I had lost my bearings. I was a young and promising engineer at the age of 28, only 3 years upon returning from my undergraduate studies in England.

She thought that I would cop out and would eventually walk out of this mess when any crunch comes. Obviously, the responsibility of Ivy would fall on her. We were light years apart but there was nothing senile about her words. Her certain words carried strong emotional overtones, like one who plunges verbal ice-pick into hearts. That was unfortunate. Well, it is just that people chide you because you have depicted the truth and touched a raw nerve.

She was a young woman then, 25 years old, single. She would have to build her own family, so was I. It will not be easy for any would-be spouse to accept Ivy into a matrimonial home. Marriage has to be in some ways, be put on a pedestal. Before she hung up, I gave her my iron-clad guarantee - there will be no turning back. And most importantly, she would have absolutely no obligation to take responsibility for her own sister. After Jane hung up, she was out of my life for good.

Remember that I do not owe anyone justification or explanations. I cannot just pretend that Ivy came through my life like a sandstorm and disappeared in what seemed like minutes.


Morning has broken

On the fifth day of Ivy’s stay in the old folk’s home, I called up her mother and told her that I had decided to bring Ivy back home. I followed my heart & trusted my instincts. I was prepared for the messy aftermath of going against my own mother.

Ivy’s mother was not apprehensive and accepted my decision graciously. I explained to her and reassured her of my decision and responsibility to take care of Ivy, for good. She did not asked me for an iron-clad guarantee that I will fulfill this responsibility in all adversities. It was not cast in stone. She then called the old folk's home to inform them of Ivy's homecoming. Together we headed to fetch Ivy in Jalan Kayu. When we reached there, Ivy was in a fearful state. The medical orderly there said that she refused to be bathed, apparently out of fright. Her long cotton pants were torn and tattered. She was then changed to a new set of clothing. Ivy looked perplexed at first, not knowing what was happening. As usual, I put on her tattered pair of pink shoes. By then she knew she would be going home. Her face brightened up and stood up rod-straight after wearing her shoes. She was then from smiling ear to ear, holding on to my hand tightly. Ivy's mother was at the same time making the administrative arrangements. They refused to refund her the $5,000 one-time fee for putting Ivy there supposedly for good even though she stayed for only four days. Her mother sighed. $5,000 from her life savings meant a lot for her. She walked away looking resigned.

After the procedures had been done, we waved goodbye to the old folk's home staff. Ivy turned her back and walked briskly to my battered Honda. Once inside, she held on tightly knowing that she will not come back again. As I drove along the winding and sandy path along the track, my joy of seeing Ivy back home suddenly turned to uneasiness. As the reality began to sink in, the feelings surfaced.

I thought I had make no allowances for personal emotion, it was a decision, not a feeling of wanting to bring Ivy home. I swallowed hard. After losing much sleep over it, I knew I must withstand all terrains. As I glanced at the rear view mirror, Ivy's lit-up face cheered me on. Her beaming face said it all. I'm passionate about decisions made and it is hard for me to just let emotions ride. I am a fighter who comes out on top, no matter what life throws at me.

Keeping a brave front, we arrived home. Ivy was restlessly looking around the familiar surroundings once again. My mother answered the door. Ivy's beaming smile was silenced by my mother's burning anger on her face. She gave my mother a wounded puppy's look. But my mother turned and walked away gravely after opening the door for us.

I temporarily lost myself. In fact, there is no word from my mother, period. And the silence is deafening. But Ivy's wary eyes darted around, not knowing that her ''Promised Land', was paid at a price. It was a solution looking for a problem. My mother's face was tight with pent-up emotions, all ready to burst at the seam on me. I know it was not going to be a walk in the park.

I brace myself for a long, cold winter ahead. But I only go one way. I have not got a reverse gear. I need to engage the power to move mountains to get something done. But conversely I felt peace, calm and strength. I was able to rewrite Ivy’s future. And my challenges ahead would fade away from the rear view mirror altogether. It was risky decision, I need a strong heart. This episode had kept me on the edge. It was the lowest point in my life. It was a predicament unnecessary in the opinion of many and was far from over.

Each day I needed my mother to look after Ivy all over again. Practically everything had to done for her - from feeding, bathing, changing her. She was not any easier to take care of than a two-year old child. The air was bitter, the ground hard. My mother was melancholic and depressed. She already had weathered some hard times in the past. She had seen fire and she had seen rain in taking care of Ivy. Somehow she dragged along and I began to see her anger doused. It must be her maternal love for me that brought her to last the distance with me.